Weeks passed quickly, as they do, and I'd gotten into the habit of working my own hours. Omar didn't seem to care, and I wondered how long I could do that for without being pulled into his office for a 'reality check' chat.
My answer came by way of an email one Thursday morning, several weeks AH. AH was the acronym Jackson had given my life After Helena. While absurd, it was also funny and typical Jackson, so it kind of stuck.
"Hi Roger, thank you for the tremendous work you've been doing. In fact, it seems that this new mode of working seems to bring out the best in you. Productivity is up 23 percent and I've had to hire two new associate engineers as you know.
I'd like to have a chat with you about your future within the company at your earliest convenience. I can see there's space on Monday morning at 10.am. I'll go ahead and book this in, and perhaps you and I can get a coffee and discuss this in person?"
I immediately declined the meeting and called Omar.
He sounded nervous.
"Hey," I started.
"Hi, Roger. Is everything okay?" he sounded worried.
I smiled, realising it must seem like I was upset.
"Yes, thanks. Your email..." I could almost hear him gulp.
"Yes?" he sounded terrified.
"You sent me an email proposing some changes, I'm assuming they're good changes, and you want me to wait until Monday morning to find out?!"
He gave me a nervous laugh. "Well, sorry Roger. It's just that, well... your calendar is full, and..."
"...Omar," I cut him off, "these conversations are far more important. How about we do it now. Absolutely nothing that can't wait. I'll come into the office, and we can have this chat."
To be fair to him, I didn't give him much choice.
I went in, and he offered me a percentage increase in pay, and alluded to a partnership deal with the directors. Figuring that I held all the cards, I thanked him and appeared flattered, but told him I was aware that I was doing all the work and while grateful they'd hired new juniors, I had asked for those juniors a year earlier. And I pointed out that most of the new business we were being awarded was due to referrals from my existing clients, who were very happy with the plans and the work we had delivered.
Omar said he'd have to get back to me when I told him what I proposed. I worked that day from my desk, went for beers with the colleague I used to enjoy drinks with, but listening to him whine about his wife, and his boring life, I realised I had a lot less in common with him than BH.
After two beers, I told him I had to rush off. He seemed surprised, but I didn't care.
When I got home, I discovered that half my furniture had disappeared.
The note on the counter, held down by the key-ring that once belonged to Helena, with her keys removed for some inexplicable reason.
'Hey, I'm sorry, but still not ready to chat. I do love you, but I'm on a different journey now. One day you'll understand. I've only taken the bare minimum; I have a new job and it will take time to rebuild. I'm sure you'll understand. Hx'
I slid to the floor holding her note. It smelled like her. In fact I realised the house smelled like her. Her scent was everywhere.
She'd taken some spices - are you fucking kidding me?! And some canned food I'd bought, and half the bedding - all the good ones, and the coffee table we'd bought together, and the television - the only one, and her shoe cupboards which I'd bought, and the wine cabinet bar stools.
I felt like I'd been robbed.
By my own fucking wife.
I was instantly, very fucking angry.
She walked out of my life without giving me a reason, and then came back in when she felt like it and took away things without discussing it with me first.
MY THINGS.
I think the one thing that really pissed me off the most was that she'd taken canned food I'd bought a few days earlier with Jackson.
I rang Jackson.
"I thought you didn't like phone calls," there was a lot of noise behind him, "just a second...what?" he appeared to be talking to someone else. After some conversation that made no sense to me, "sorry Rog. What's up? Is everything okay?"
I was about to answer, but he interjected with, "oh wait, don't tell me. I think this - whatever it is, will need to be followed up with some wine and long discussion. I'm still at work, problems today, but can be at your place in..."
"Jackson!" I nearly shouted.
"Jesus! No need to yell Rog. What's going on?"
"She's been here." I started crying. No... I sobbed.
Jackson said he'd be right over, and told me to hang tight.
He arrived less than half hour later, with more wine, even though he knew I had plenty, because only days earlier, he'd used my credit card to buy plenty online, while I slept on the couch next to him.
"I ordered pizza - for me, relax, I haven't eaten, but you're still paying for it," he said, pushing through the door and dumping contents on the counter, then turning to study me.
"Fuck," was all he said when he looked into my eyes.
I sniffed, not sure what I wanted to say.
"You look like shit," he finished.
I laughed, unexpectedly, and sprayed snot and who knew what else off, but I used my arm to wipe that off, then headed off to the bathroom to wash my face and hands.
Jackson exclaimed a few times while I was in the bathroom. "What a bitch! She took the fucking coffee table!?" I walked into the room and watched him; he was staring at where the coffee table used to be.
